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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098781">Lockdown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockRiverHekate/pseuds/SherlockRiverHekate'>SherlockRiverHekate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:41:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockRiverHekate/pseuds/SherlockRiverHekate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finished a case and decided he wanted to go for a walk to clear his head. There was only one problem with that, London had just gone into lockdown. How is a restless consulting detective going to cope with being locked in his own flat?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I'm going out," Sherlock announced, pulling his coat on and making for the door.<br/>"Yea, no you're not," John countered, moving towards the door to block him.<br/>"Why not? The weather's perfectly fine. I just want to get some fresh air. Go for a walk."<br/>Sherlock tried to step past John.<br/>"Why not? Are you… Have you not heard or read a word of what's been on the news?" John looked at him in disbelief.<br/>"Dull, no."<br/>John closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, then looked at Sherlock.<br/>"Of course. Of course you haven't. And you probably haven't checked any messages from Mycroft either."<br/>Sherlock gave up trying to get past John and instead looked at him.<br/>Tension in his jaw, solid stance, slight bags under his eyes. He was stressed.<br/>"Why would I check Mycroft's messages?"<br/>John sighed. "Sherlock, the country is in lockdown. You can only leave the house for groceries or if you're an essential worker."<br/>"What? Why?"<br/>Sometimes John was sure this is what caring for a toddler was like.<br/>"You remember that virus that was spreading across China, and then other countries? Well, it's got here. And it's getting bad enough that they've locked everyone down."<br/>Sherlock mentally went through what he had heard about it in its early stages, and what he knew of epidemiology. It made sense, really.<br/>"But what if there's a case, John? The police are essential. I consult for them, therefore I am essential."<br/>"Sherlock, the police are out patrolling and enforcing the lockdown. Greg's either checking on pubs to make sure they're shut, or packaging masks and gloves for the Yard. All the criminals who commit crimes worthy of you are too smart to risk their own lives right now. And that's what you'd be doing if you went out. Risking your own life, and Mrs Hudson's."<br/>By this point they'd both ended up back in the sitting room, Sherlock still in his coat though.<br/>"I'm perfectly healthy, thank you very much." Sherlock retorted as he flopped on the couch.<br/>John let out a disbelieving laugh.<br/>"Sherlock, you're an ex-smoker and ex addict, and that's not taking into account any damage that might have occurred while you were destroying Moriarty's web." Then John also sat. "And that isn't saying anything about how it'd affect Mrs Hudson if she caught it."<br/>Sherlock groaned.<br/>"So, we're stuck inside for the foreseeable future?"<br/>Now that's where things got tricky.<br/>"You and Mrs Hudson are. But I still have to go to work. There's talk of shifting to Telehealth format, but for now I still have to go to the clinic."<br/>Sherlock huffed and sunk lower into the couch.<br/>"I'm going to get so BORED."<br/>John pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long lockdown.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first working day of the lockdown saw John return home exhausted. He'd been inundated with patients, all of them scared and wanting reassurance, even if they hadn't been coming in with fevers or respiratory symptoms. Then there were the handful of patients that refused to wear masks and got huffy or aggressive when they were told they wouldn't be seen unless they did.<br/>Twice already, he'd come close to phoning Greg, and today was only the first day. So yes, John was exhausted.<br/>He wiped down the door handles then made his way upstairs, longing for a shower and hoping that Sherlock hadn't destroyed the flat in a fit of boredom.<br/>Instead, as he reached the top step, a pleasant, familiar smell reached his nose. Without even realising it, John started to relax.<br/>"John, take a shower. Dinner will be ready by the time you're less grumpy." Sherlock called out from the kitchen.<br/>"How'd you know? My footsteps, right?"<br/>John stood in the doorway into the kitchen and watched Sherlock at the microscope.<br/>"With the lockdown, all health workers will be stressed." Then a pause. "But also yes, your footsteps."<br/>John shook his head with a smile.<br/>"Now go shower, otherwise the food will be ready before you are. And it can't be served cold."<br/>Sherlock made a shooing motion with one hand, while turning back to his microscope.</p><p>John came back in, hair still slightly damp as Sherlock was putting two plates down on the miraculously clean kitchen table. That alone would have been enough to make him pause, but on top of the clean table sat a complete roast dinner. The smell of roast lamb and red wine gravy wafted from the plate, which also held crispy roast potatoes, carrot, pumpkin, peas and …<br/>"Is that roast cauliflower?" John asked in surprise.<br/>Sherlock stood from where he had been checking the oven.<br/>"Yes, with olive oil, garlic and grated parmesan."<br/>"This looks amazing, Sherlock."<br/>"Yes well, mustn't let it get cold. It's lamb." He instructed, before settling himself in one of the chairs and picking up his cutlery.<br/>John swiftly followed suit.<br/>"This is delicious, Sherlock. I didn't know you could cook," John commented.<br/>"Not that much different to chemistry." The detective replied. "I'm better at baking, that's more like chemistry. You'll see when you have the baked mousse in a moment."<br/>"You made dessert too?!" John asked in surprise.<br/>"Of course. I have to take some down to Mrs Hudson before we have ours. I did promise her a slice in return for the use of her cake tin."<br/>John nodded as he placed his knife and fork down on a now empty plate.<br/>"How about you take it down to her while I do the dishes? Somehow you've used less for cooking than you do for an experiment."<br/>Sherlock smirked at him. "And it's less toxic too."<br/>John smiles back, possibly his first real smile of the day and collected their plates, while Sherlock cut a slice so big it looked to be almost a quarter of the cake, to take down to Mrs Hudson with the now clean cake tin.</p><p>Baked mousse eaten, John and Sherlock were seated in the sitting room, a low fire taking away the evening's chill. Sherlock was, for once, sitting quietly and reading an academic journal, while John was flicking through the TV channels. Unfortunately all the channels were showing programmes about the coronavirus, or were they were CBeebies or CBBC. So John switched it off with a sigh. A moment stretched by, filled only with the crackle of the fire.<br/>Then John spoke.<br/>"Why the sudden need to cook?"<br/>Sherlock blinked and looked up from the journal.<br/>"And bake." He reminded John. "Because I'm bored and we can't order take out. Also, the one reason I can leave the house is for groceries, so I shall take whatever reason I am allowed. At least until my brother decides that is too risky for me and takes to getting his people to deliver supplies instead."<br/>"So practicality and entertainment all in one?"<br/>Sherlock smiles a little at that.<br/>"Yes," Sherlock drawled. He won't add that the relief that was so obvious on John when he entered the flat was all the incentive he needed to keep this up for the entirety of the lockdown.<br/>"Do you think it's going to be as bad as all that? That Mycroft will stop you leaving the house all together?"<br/>Sherlock looked at him, with that look that said 'Are you really that stupid?'<br/>"You've seen the data, John. While you're no epidemiologist, you did study medicine. What do you think?"<br/>John nodded slowly.<br/>"I think this is going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better."<br/>Sherlock nodded back.<br/>"So, I should expect more homemade meals?" John asked.<br/>"Well, Mrs Hudson isn't our housekeeper." Sherlock smirked at him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day at the clinic was much the same as the previous. An exhausted John Watson dragged himself up the steps to 221B Baker St, looking forward to letting the day's stress go. He was cautiously hopefully that Sherlock might have cooked again, but he knew his flatmate. The detective was just as likely to have pulled the books out of the bookshelves in a fit of pique, as he was to have made dinner again.<br/>However, once he entered the flat, John was greeted with the smell of garlic and tomato. Sherlock was sitting cross legged, poking at something in the fireplace, while his other hand held a glass of red.<br/>"Hello, John," he greeted him. "There's a glass for you on the table. Enjoy some before I put the pasta on to cook."<br/>After washing his hands, John gratefully sank into his chair with the glass of good quality red wine.<br/>"Didn't know we had anything this nice in the cupboard," he commented.<br/>"You'd be surprised what's in some of our cupboards, John." Sherlock replied. "Unfortunately I have an experiment set up on the kitchen table, so we will have to eat in here tonight."<br/>John laughed at that.<br/>"Eating in here is nothing unusual. What's for dinner then?"<br/>Sherlock lay on his back, and stared at the ceiling, blue dressing gown spread out like wings underneath him. "Beef ravioli with creamy sundried tomato sauce, and golden syrup dumplings. Homemade ravioli."<br/>"I feel like you've been busier than I have," John laughed. "I feel a bit lazy, just going to the clinical and coming home."<br/>Sherlock stood and waved his hand lazily. "Enjoy being able to leave the house while you can. At least you're still able to work."<br/>Sherlock hadn't intended the last bit to come out quite so petulant.<br/>"Greg hasn't sent you any cold cases, then?" John asked.<br/>"Not yet. I think he has instructions to space them out. No doubt another thing my brother has meddled in," Sherlock huffed. He stood up and drained the last of his wine.<br/>"I'm putting the pasta on, "He announced as he left the room.<br/>John felt a shift in the atmosphere. Something about all this is bothering Sherlock, and it's not a lack of stimulus. He seemed more angry than bored.<br/>John filed it away to think about later, and resolved to see if there were any unusual illness cases that he could bring back for Sherlock. He did give half a thought to texting Mycroft to see what might have upset Sherlock, but then figured that would more than likely make the matter worse not better.</p><p>It was only a few minutes later when Sherlock walked in, two steaming bowls of past in hand.<br/>"The garlic bread was shop bought, ran out of time to make that from scratch," He told John as he passed him a bowl.<br/>"What? Sherlock, that's fine. This is more than I could have expected, seriously." John smiled at him.<br/>"Well, you did live off of army rations for years," Sherlock chuckled.<br/>John ate a mouthful of the pasta and nearly groaned in delight.<br/>"This is amazing," he said, mouth still half filled with food.<br/>"Thank you, John. I thought you'd prefer this to carbonara."<br/>"Yea, too creamy. This is the perfect amount of cream," John agreed.<br/>"I know."<br/>John looked at him and the detective swallowed a mouthful of ravioli to continue.<br/>"You don't often go for the creamier dishes at Angelo's. And the few times that you do, you struggle or don't quite finish your meal. It's obvious you like the idea of a creamy pasta dish, but can't actually eat a full one."<br/>"Amazing. And you picked this recipe because of that?"<br/>"Partially. I'm rather fond of sun dried tomatoes personally."<br/>The finished their meal in peace, the fire crackling beside them.<br/>John wiped the bowl with the last of his garlic bread, not wanting to waste a drop of the sauce.<br/>"You know, you could make that every day and I wouldn't complain," he commented as he took their bowls to the kitchen.<br/>"That would get boring," Sherlock replied. "I have a whole list of ideas that I want to try."<br/>"Really? You've menu planned?" Joh asked.<br/>"Somewhat," Sherlock hummed. "And no, I'm, not going to tell you."<br/>John laughed at that.<br/>"Trust you to be all mysterious, even about dinner."<br/>"Isn't this more fun? You get to wonder all day what dinner might be until you get home."<br/>Sherlock plated up dumplings and syrup in to bowls.<br/>"There's cream left, but no ice cream."<br/>John nodded, pouring some cream on his own bowl, while Sherlock chose to leave his as it was.</p><p>It was much later in the night that Sherlock noticed John was still up, though it was past the time he habitually went to bed if he was at the clinic the next day. Sherlock cleared his throat, drawing John's attention away from his book. When John's eyes landed on Sherlock, he asked him if he was working the next day.<br/>"Yea, but only an afternoon shift tomorrow."<br/>Mentally Sherlock flicked through his recipes in his head, finding two that could be done with a minimal prep, ensuring that dinner would still be a surprise.<br/>He nodded, satisfied with his decision. If John noticed, he didn't comment. After all, Sherlock had done far stranger things than that before.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Day Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As he was in lockdown, and there were no cold cases for him, and his experiments were at a stage where they just had to sit, and John hadn't left for work so couldn't start cooking yet, Sherlock spent half his morning in bed.<br/>The first hour he occupied by sorting and cleaning out his mind palace. Well, the first twenty minutes were that, the last forty were just wandering through it. Then he tried to deduce what John was doing based on the time and the other man's movements around the flat. That got very boring, very quickly however. So at about 10am, Sherlock decided to get up. He could at least waste some time showering and shaving. He wasn't going to go as far as getting properly dressed though.</p><p>Sherlock walked into the sitting room, dressing gown billowing behind him, munching on one of Mrs Hudson's chocolate chip biscuits. John looked up at Sherlock and noticed his attire.<br/>"Not leaving the flat today, then?"<br/>"No, no need," was the reply.<br/>John nodded slowly. "So everything you need to make dinner is already in the flat?"<br/>"Brilliant deduction, John," the detective replied wryly. "But there is a shopping list on the fridge door if you want me to get anything tomorrow."<br/>From the way his hand twitched, Sherlock knew there were things that John wanted to add. Milk and tea were the two most likely items to be added to the list, but he wouldn't be surprised if biscuits or other snack food also found their way onto the list. Sherlock was going to add coffee if John didn't.<br/>The news coming in regarding daily infection rates and deaths made it more likely that the clinic would shift to Telehealth appointments in the near future. Sherlock's best estimate was by the end of the week, but it could be earlier if infection rates increased significantly, or if his nosy brother took it upon himself to meddle in John's work (only with Sherlock's best interests at heart, of course). Sherlock sneered at the thought, suddenly feeling grumpy and restless from thinking about Mycroft.<br/>He jumped up, pacing for a few minutes. John, in his chair, steeled himself for an outburst and tried to covertly check how long he had until he needed to leave for his shift.<br/>"Why does my brother insist on controlling my life like this?"<br/>John looked up, confused. He'd expected an outburst of boredom, not this.<br/>"What's Mycroft done now?" John asked carefully. For all he knew, Mycroft could have sent a text about something this morning. Certainly there was nothing he knew of that the man had done recently to warrant this.<br/>"He's the one telling Lestrade how many cold cases he can give me and when," Sherlock spat.<br/>"Why would he do that?" John asked.<br/>"Oh, I don't know," Sherlock growled. "Maybe because he doesn't trust me to not start using the minute I don't have anything to do. So his idea is to give me a couple or cases every three or four days. Give me something to 'look forward to' rather than drugs!"<br/>Privately, John could see the logic that Mycroft was using. On the other hand, it had been a very long time since Sherlock had touched any drugs, and it was obvious that he had found another way of amusing himself.<br/>"While that is frustrating," John began. "You have experiments and the cooking that's giving you something to do as well. At least you aren't relying on just the cases to be entertained."<br/>"That's not the point," Sherlock stood in front of John. The height difference, particularly because John was still sitting in his chair, made Sherlock seem imposing, though John wasn't too worried.<br/>John stared back at Sherlock, waiting for him to continue.<br/>"I'm a consulting detective," Sherlock stated. "For every case that I consult on that gets solved, so every case I consult on, I get paid."<br/>"So Mycroft restricting cases, means he's restricting you earning money?" John clarified.<br/>"Exactly." Sherlock went back to pacing the room. "And it's not like I don't have savings. But the fact that he, and you, are able to continue working but he feels he has the RIGHT to determine how many cases I get, and therefore how much pay I receive, because he's claiming to look after me is frankly unfair." He took a breath and continued.<br/>"He still has control over how much money I have access to. What am I supposed to do when I use the money in the account and there's no more going into it? Go begging to him? 'Please Mycroft, can I have some more?'" he snarled.<br/>John could now see why this upset Sherlock so much. He had been cut off from his money before, John knew this, and to have his brother cut off his income without checking in with Sherlock's wellbeing first was less than ideal.<br/>"That isn't fair," John conceded. "And while I know you're aware that I'm still getting paid, it doesn't change the fact that he is treating you like a child and could have at least checked in on you before putting these measures in place."<br/>"Thank you!" Sherlock threw his hands in the air. "It's not like we know when this lockdown will end. And it's highly likely he will interfere in my life again and get your clinic to implement telehealth as soon as possible, which means you'll be HERE to keep an eye on me. No way of using drugs then."<br/>John nodded, filing that information away to warn the other doctors at the clinic.<br/>"In the meantime, I'll talk to Greg and see if he will give you cases more regularly." John told him. "I'll explain the situation and see if he'll help us regardless of your brother."<br/>Sherlock nodded, taking something out of his pocket.<br/>"Oi, no shooting holes in the walls Sherlock!"<br/>"Relax, they're blanks."</p><p>John had a spring in his step as he walked up the stairs that night. He was slightly worried about the damage to the flat, regardless of the supposedly blank shots in the gun. But he had spoken with Greg Lestrade, who had agreed to give Sherlock cases continuously (or at least one a day) until they ran out of cold cases that interested the man or the lock down ended. John had also spoken with Stamford, who was looking into some of the more puzzling cases at the hospital, even if they were diagnosed, to give Sherlock something a bit different. Stamford had agreed that anything that Sherlock was able to diagnose that the doctors hadn't would earn him a consultant's fee as well.<br/>"Sherlock, I've got some good news," John announced as he walked in.<br/>He heard noises in the kitchen, so he went in that direction. Sherlock was finishing dishes, and John made use of the warm soapy water to wash off his hands.<br/>Sherlock observed John.<br/>"You spoke to Lestrade, who is going to give me more cases and you spoke to someone at St Barts too. Probably Stamford, who is looking at unusual cases to send my way," he stated.<br/>"Yea. I'd ask how you know, but it was probably from a smudge on my finger or something," John laughed.<br/>"Something like that," Sherlock agreed. "However, thank you."<br/>John blinked. It was rare that Sherlock said thank you for anything. He wasn't sure if the lockdown had started to get to the man, or if it was a testament of how much Mycroft's action had upset him.<br/>"What's for dinner?" John asked curiously, peering at the oven.<br/>"What does it look like?" Sherlock asked him.<br/>A casserole dish sat in the over, the contents unable to be seen. It was topped with mashed potato, which was going a lovely golden brown.<br/>"Shepherd's pie?"<br/>"Yes, with the left over lamb from the roast. And a rather simple cheat's dessert."<br/>John looked at him curiously.<br/>"Microwave chocolate pudding. It's a recipe of Mrs Hudson's though, so I have no doubt that it will work."<br/>"That sounds good, Sherlock." He said. He left the kitchen, Sherlock calling out to him as he left.<br/>"Don't be too long changing, the food is nearly ready."</p><p>They were eating in the sitting room again, more of Sherlock's experiments set up on the table. John wasn't bothered; it wasn't like they had regularly eaten at the table anyway.<br/>The left over lamb, rather than lamb mince, lent a whole different flavour to the food. And John suspected that some of the left over gravy was also in the sauce for the shepherd's pie, as it had a smooth flavour with a hint of red wine.<br/>The pudding came out with a crunchy layer on top, and soft spongey pudding underneath, and plenty of chocolatey sauce with it.<br/>It was only while they were eating it, that John was game enough to bring up an idea he had during the afternoon.<br/>"Sherlock," he began. "I know you don't particularly like your brother."<br/>Sherlock rolled his eyes at the statement but motioned for John to go on.<br/>"But, what if you invite him here, maybe in a few days' time? Then he can see for himself that you're in no danger of relapse"<br/>Sherlock frowned, but he thought about it.<br/>Eventually he relented.<br/>"Okay, I can see the advantage of that. Oooh, what if I make a full three course meal? That'll really ruin Mycroft's diet."<br/>John chuckled. "There you go. Win win situation. Mycroft can check that you're okay, and you can needle your brother."<br/>Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Oh, let's do this on Sunday. Then I will have the whole day to make what I'm thinking of."<br/>John shrugged. "I'm not much of a cook, but if you do that then at least I'm here if you want a hand."<br/>Sherlock fished his phone off of the bookshelf, and sent a text through to his brother. A few moments later there was a reply. John didn't know what each of them said, and that was probably for the better in his opinion, but it was decided for dinner at Baker St at 6.30pm. John wisely suggested they extend the invite to Mrs Hudson as well, she was able to keep the peace between the brothers better than John ever could.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Day Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thursdays were always the hardest day for some reason. Even on a normal week, John found that the day just seemed to drag on in never ending tedium. However, with the pandemic, it just seemed worse. The influx of panicked patients had slowed down some, with less people calling in demanding appointments for a tickle in their throat.<br/>Despite this, the clinic still had patients. A worldwide pandemic did not prevent other illness from occurring, and of course there were patients with ongoing care that needed their scheduled appointments.<br/>In the lull between patients, John found his thoughts wandering to Sherlock. This in itself wasn't all that unusual. John often wondered what his flat mate was up to, usually hoping that he hadn't destroyed something or left a body part in the food section of the fridge. Today however, John was pondering what the genius had decided to make for dinner tonight. He knew that whatever was being made required Sherlock to go to the shops, he had asked John if there was anything else that needed to go on the shopping list before John left for work that morning. John knew he wouldn't be able to guess what he was having for dinner, Sherlock knew how to cover his tracks, but that didn't take the fun out of thinking anyway.<br/>Suddenly John was pulled out of his thoughts by the intercom buzzing, announcing his next patient.<br/>"Yes, bring Mrs Marion in."</p><p>The streets had finally become completely quiet, four days was apparently how long it took for everyone except essential workers to get the message to stay at home. John was nearly home when a police car slowly came to a stop next to him. The car rolled down its window.<br/>"Hey mate," the cop called out. "What are you doing out?"<br/>John turned to face the car.<br/>"Hello," He greeted him. He didn't know this police officer, but he did think that maybe he had seen him around NSY before.<br/>"John Watson, GP." John held out his General Medical Council registration card for the officer to read.<br/>The other man read the card and then looked at John properly. John could see the moment that recognition dawned on the officer.<br/>"Blimey, you're the John Watson that works with Sherlock Holmes."<br/>John nodded his head.<br/>"Not everyone around the Yard likes him. But the way you write up the cases is real interesting. Do you want a lift home?"<br/>"Nah," John shook his head. "I'm nearly home." He pointed up ahead to the turn for Baker St.<br/>"Alright. Stay safe."<br/>The police officer rolled the window up and then continued on his way.</p><p>As John entered Baker St, he stood at the bottom of the stairway and took a deep breath in. He could smell browned meat and something a little bit buttery. It was a smell he knew, but he couldn't put his finger on what it actually was.<br/>With a shrug, John made his way up the stairs to face Sherlock and the surprise that was his dinner.<br/>"Go wash your hands before you come into the kitchen. Dinner is nearly ready," Sherlock called as John stepped through the door.<br/>"What's for dinner?" He asked as he walked past the kitchen.<br/>"You'll see when it's on your plate." Sherlock shooed him away with a smirk.<br/>With some mock grumbling, John did as he was bid.</p><p>A few minutes later, hands washed and clothes changed, John made his way back to the kitchen. The table was half cleared, the experiments at one end of the table and two places set for each of them to eat.<br/>"Any particular place I'm supposed to sit?" Joh asked Sherlock.<br/>Sherlock turned to him from where he was standing at the sink, a pot in his hands.<br/>"So long as it's where I have the cutlery set, it doesn't matter."<br/>"Ta, 'cause I was totally going to sit in front of the steaming blue beaker."<br/>"Interesting," Sherlock commented. "I thought it was more green, considering it's copper chloride."<br/>"Why is it steaming?" John was slightly alarmed.<br/>"I was just experimenting on the changes with slow heat. It shouldn't be dangerous."<br/>"Shouldn't… Oh, you know what, I don't want to know. Just so long as I won't die in my sleep."<br/>Sherlock placed a bowl in front of John.<br/>"You won't, I'm moving it to the stove after dinner. The fan should work well enough in place of a fume hood."<br/>John nodded, then picked up his fork and poked at the bowl. Beef strips, mushrooms, a bit of onions and pasta.<br/>"Beef stroganoff?" he asked.<br/>"Well done." Sherlock sat at his own place setting and picked up his fork. "You're still working tomorrow, and there is enough for you to have lunch as well. "<br/>"Oh, thanks."<br/>Sherlock just waved his fork at him and John promptly dug into his food.<br/>It was as amazing as John was starting to expect from Sherlock. John knew that Sherlock was quite good at chemistry, so he shouldn't have been so surprised at how good he was at cooking.</p><p>"So, are you still working in person next week?" Sherlock asked as they finished up the stroganoff.<br/>"As far as I know, yea." John told him. "It's certainly slowed down some now. I wouldn't be surprised if that means we shift to telehealth. Most of the appointments today were check ups for pre-existing conditions."<br/>"Hmm, yes. I did hear that more funding was going towards setting up more clinics to work via telehealth." Sherlock commented.<br/>John raised an eyebrow at him.<br/>"Does Mycroft have anything to do with this?"<br/>Sherlock pursed his lips. "It's highly probably." He agreed. "But it isn't actually a bad idea."<br/>John agreed.<br/>He stood with both their plates, taking them to the sink.<br/>"While you're up, get the container out of the fridge." Sherlock told him.<br/>John opened the fridge, looking past the bag of fingers for a container.<br/>"You mean Mrs Hudson's Tupperware container?" he asked.<br/>"Yes, please." There was a note in Sherlock's voice that very clearly held the meaning 'obviously'.<br/>John obliged, and opened the container as he reached the table.<br/>It held four different typed of slices.<br/>"Did Mrs Hudson make these?" John asked, recognising Mrs Hudson's coconut and apricot slice.<br/>Sherlock gave a half nod. "She and I worked together, but yes, she did have a hand in making these."<br/>"I haven't seen Mrs Hudson in a few days," John told him. "How is she?"<br/>"Oh, she's disappointed she can't go have coffee with Mrs Turner, and she's worried about you going to work. But other than that, she's fine. She lived through World War two."<br/>Sherlock grabbed a piece of Florentine slice.<br/>"What's this one?" John pointed to a piece of brown slice.<br/>"Hedgehog."<br/>"It's not topped with sprinkles," John wrinkled his nose with a laugh.<br/>Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. "If that disappoints you, then have the lemon slice instead."<br/>"Oh, no. I am having all the hedgehog."<br/>John went to pull the container towards himself, but Sherlock was quicker and pulled it his way instead.<br/>They had a stare down before John blinked.<br/>"Do you want a cuppa?"<br/>Sherlock nodded and pushed the container back between them.</p><p>"Do you take requests?" John asked later that night.<br/>Sherlock looked at him, behind his goggles his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.<br/>"For dinner. Would you take a request for dinner?" John clarified.<br/>"Possibly," Sherlock replied, pushing the goggles onto his head. "Depends on what it is."<br/>"Ah, right. So what if I asked for lamb chops?"<br/>Sherlock thought about that for a moment.<br/>"Alright." He agreed. "I'll have to go out tomorrow to get everything. And they will need to marinade, so they would have to be Saturday's dinner."<br/>"Thanks," said John. "I haven't had chops in ages."</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Day Five</h2></a>
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    <p>To say that John was glad that it was Friday was an understatement. It honestly seemed to him like the week had lasted long enough to be a month. At this stage, John would be happy if the call came that they would all do telehealth consults from now on.<br/>As he entered Baker St, he removed his mask and placed it in the bin by the front door. He gratefully took big breaths of unfiltered, unobstructed air. The air smelt like oil and peanuts and cooked meat. There was also an undercurrent of what John was sure was coffee.<br/>Curious, he swiftly made his way up the stairs. Before Sherlock could speak, John called out to him.<br/>"I'll go wash my hands and change before I come into the kitchen."<br/>Sherlock was in the kitchen, stirring something in a wok.<br/>"We're eating in the sitting room." Sherlock didn't turn around.<br/>"Sure." A beat later. "Why?"<br/>"Spilt something on the table. I'll have it useable by Sunday."<br/>John shook his head with a smile, and then went to wash and change.</p><p>John switched on the television before going into the kitchen.<br/>"Smells like something Asian," he commented as he walked to the fridge.<br/>"Pad Thai." Sherlock confirmed. "May as well keep up the tradition of Friday take out, even if we can't actually get take out."<br/>"So you made stir fry instead?"<br/>Sherlock was tipping the noodles into two wide, shallow bowls. "Pad Thai really isn't that difficult, John. I've warmed up some spring rolls too."<br/>John opened the fridge as Sherlock was talking. He knew that there were a few bottles of beer in there still. Or, at least he hoped they were still there.<br/>He found them, not in the crisper drawer, but on the bottom shelf. The crisper drawer was actually filled with vegetables for once.<br/>"Beer?"<br/>Sherlock shook his head. Just as he was closing the fridge door, he saw tiramisu sitting on the shelf above the beer.<br/>"Dessert?" John asked, gesturing to the dish.<br/>"Yes. Actually, that can come out now if we are to eat it straight after the Pad Thai."<br/>John obliged, carrying the glass container of tiramisu in one hand and the bottle of beer in the other.<br/>Sherlock passed the bowl and a fork to John, and then picked up his own bowl.<br/>"Take out and telly?" John asked.<br/>Sherlock waved his hand in front of him, indicating for John to lead the way.</p><p>"How much coffee did you put in this?" John asked in surprise when he took a mouthful of the tiramisu.<br/>"A bit more than the recipe," Sherlock said casually. "I made it, and tried a bit and it seemed weak. So I added some more and tried it again. Still wasn't enough. I think there was something wrong with the recipe I used. I did that about 4 times before it tasted right."<br/>John laughed. "I think your taste buds got used to coffee, Sherlock. There's heaps of coffee in this!"<br/>Sherlock tasted a mouthful and made a strange face.<br/>"Now that I've eaten something else, you might have a point." He conceded. "This is a tad strong."<br/>"We could add some ice cream to this, cut through the coffee?" John suggested.<br/>Sherlock stood and returned with the plain vanilla ice cream.<br/>"Sorry," Sherlock told him as he handed the tub across.<br/>"No problem. The left overs will make a great breakfast tomorrow."<br/>As they were finishing the dessert, John's phone lit up with a text message.<br/>"Looks like I'm only going into the clinic one day a week now. The other four days I'll work via telehealth." John said, after he read the message.<br/>"Which day are you going in?" Sherlock asked, turning his attention away from grumbling at the television.<br/>"Not sure yet. I'll get the roster tomorrow."<br/>"Good, you were getting frustrated with going in and sitting with a mask on all day anyway." Sherlock commented, looking back at the television.<br/>"How did you…?"John began but Sherlock looked across at him with an eyebrow raised.<br/>"I know, I know. Consulting detective, it's your job to see what other people miss." John sighed.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Day Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Saturday, and as they were in lock down, John knew he could have a nice sleep in. That was the plan, at least. Sherlock, obviously bored, had picked up his violin and was playing. For a while the gentle sound of the violin let John drift in and out of sleep for a while, eventually it turned to screeching. John looked at the clock by his bed, seeing that it read 09:30.<br/>Figuring that it was an acceptable time to get out of bed, John made is way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.</p><p>By the time John got down to the sitting room, about half an hour later, Sherlock was still tormenting his violin.<br/>"What's the problem?"<br/>Sherlock swirled around, violin still raised to his shoulder.<br/>"Mycroft is trying to stop me from going to get groceries myself. He said that 'it's safer for my people to bring them'."<br/>John sighed. It was still too early for him to deal the Holmes sibling dynamic. He hadn't even had a cup of tea yet.</p><p>John knew part of what was going to be dinner tonight, and he knew that it didn't require a huge amount of preparation. What John wasn't sure of, was what Sherlock was doing with the lamb chops, or if the other man intended to make a dessert.<br/>The television was already talking about how to 'stop the isolation pounds' and 'getting fit in lockdown'. The desserts every night were certainly not aiding any weight loss, but considering the amount of running around London they normally did, John didn't find himself minding. And anything that helped to add meat to Sherlock's bones was definitely a win in John, and Mrs Hudson's, books.</p><p>The day was spent not doing a lot. John caught up on reading a few medical journals that he hadn't had time for, and setting up his laptop to work from home next week. Well, he set up his laptop after a small hunt around the flat looking for said laptop, finding it finally in one of the drawers of Sherlock's desk, underneath a folder of bruise patterns.<br/>They lunched on left overs, Pad Thai for John and a small amount of the stroganoff in Sherlock's case. And it was late afternoon that John noticed that Sherlock had drifted into the kitchen and hadn't emerged in a while. Curious, John made his way in as well.<br/>"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.<br/>"Making a cuppa," John replied innocently. Apparently too innocently for Sherlock's liking.<br/>"You're trying to see what I'm making, aren't you?"<br/>"I'm curious, yea," John replied as he took a mug out of a cupboard.<br/>"You already know it'll be chops for dinner. Don't ruin the surprise." Sherlock tried to shoo John out of the kitchen.<br/>"Alright, alright!" Joh held up his hands in surrender with a smile. "Let me make my cuppa and I'll be out of your way until dinner time then."<br/>Sherlock nodded in satisfaction and kept a close eye on John until he had left the room.<br/>What Sherlock didn't know, is that John had noticed the potatoes and carrots on the sink.</p><p>John's attention drifted a few times as he was exploring the video calling program on his computer. He heard bubbling water at one stage, and made a guess that the potatoes went into that, and given the time, would eventually be turned into some form of mashed potatoes.<br/>Other than chopping noises, there weren't any real hints for John to use regarding their meal that night. At one stage he smelt something sweet, like caramalised sugar, and he figured that would be for dessert. There really wasn't much more he could guess and the television had just started with the evening news, so John turned his attention away from the kitchen and towards whatever the reporters were trying to sensationalise today.</p><p>The news had just finished when Sherlock called out to John.<br/>"Do you want dinner in the kitchen or in front of the television?"<br/>"In here's fine," he replied after some thought. He'd put the fire going and it was pleasantly warm in the sitting room.<br/>"Well, the food is ready."<br/>John stood and stretched, then went to see what Sherlock had prepared.</p><p>On two plates sat a lamb chop that had clearly been marinaded in something dark before being grilled, sticky looking carrots, creamy mash and some leafy greens that looked part way between steamed and fried.<br/>"What are you looking at? You asked for lamb chops," Sherlock commented as he picked up his plate.<br/>"Yea, and this is a little more fancy than I had expected," John replied.<br/>"Just wait until you try it," Sherlock smirked.<br/>John hurriedly picked up his own plate and went back to the other room. When Sherlock said that, he now knew that it would be something delicious.<br/>"I'm not going to tell you what each thing is," Sherlock said as he sat down. "You can guess this time and I'll tell you if you're right or not."<br/>The smells were making John's mouth water and that was the signal he needed to dive into his food.</p><p>The carrots, in John's opinion, were the easiest to guess.<br/>"Caramalised honey carrots?"<br/>John was met with a nod, so he moved onto the greens. John's system was going to be to try a small mouthful of each food individually to guess the flavours, and then eat them together once he'd guessed them all.<br/>"Did you, toss the steamed greens through garlic?" He asked a little unsure.<br/>"Partially right. There's something else as well as the garlic, and which greens."<br/>Sherlock was going to make John work for his answers, after all he had put effort into the meat and three vegetable meal.<br/>"Well, the greens are spinach, I think," John began. He got an encouraging nod from Sherlock, so he took another bite of spinach and chewed it slowly.<br/>"Olive oil, and chilli as well as the garlic?"<br/>Sherlock's smile was answer enough.<br/>"You still have two more to guess."<br/>"Two? I already know this is lamb, Sherlock."<br/>The look Sherlock gave John was unimpressed.<br/>"It may be lamb, John. But I didn't go to the length of marinading it all day for you to not appreciate the flavours."<br/>Joh held his hands up in a pacifying gesture, and then cut off a bit of the chop.<br/>"Smoky, sweet and some spices… I have no idea what the combination is, but this is amazing. The meat is so soft." John told him.<br/>That made Sherlock smile.<br/>"Okay, I'll give you that. It's smoky plum and barbeque marinade. Marinading it for the day broke down the muscle fibres, making the meat softer and the griller rendered the fat down so that it's smooth in the mouth."<br/>"You've put real effort into you cooking," John commented.<br/>"I don't have much else to do. Lestrade decided I should have weekends off cold cases." Sherlock pouted when he said this, making John chuckle.<br/>"So I'm guessing this isn't normal potato mash, then?"<br/>The look John was given was enough to answer that.<br/>"Garlic and parmesan?"<br/>John was rewarded with a nod and a smile.</p><p>Sherlock had mostly finished his meal, when he stood and went into the kitchen.<br/>"Everything okay?" John called out.<br/>"Yes, fine," Sherlock called back. "I just need to take the dessert out of the oven."<br/>"Need a hand?"<br/>"No. I'm perfectly capable of removing a dish from the oven, John."<br/>John shook his head and continued with his meal.<br/>A minute or so later the detective returned, a small plate in each hand. He passed one across to John, and placed his own on the floor beside his chair.<br/>"It needs to cool," he said, before going back to his own dinner.</p><p>Once his own meal was finished, and he washed off his plate, John looked at his plate of dessert. There was a caramalised fruit on top of crispy puff pastry. The flesh of the fruit had once been white, and from the shape of the pieces John was going to put a guess on either apple or pear. He hadn't seen either fruit in the fridge, but they didn't need to be refrigerated so Sherlock had probably stored them in a cupboard.<br/>With a shrug, John cut a piece with a fork to taste it.<br/>One bite was all it took to confirm which fruit had been used.<br/>"Apple tarte Tatin, Sherlock. Though it's usually not made with cinnamon in it."<br/>"Quite correct. My grandmother's recipe, she liked cinnamon."<br/>John took another bite, before deciding that a cuppa would go well with this. As he was pulling the cups out of the cupboard Sherlock called out to him.<br/>"A cocoa, if you don't mind."<br/>John pulled the cocoa out as well.<br/>"Thank you."</p><p>After they had eaten, and their drinks were just dregs in the bottom of the cup, Sherlock started scribbling on a notepad.<br/>"Case notes?" John asked, looking away from the action movie on the television.<br/>"No, the menu for tomorrow night. I need to work out when to cook each item. Some things can't be cooked until the last moment."<br/>John nodded. "Will you need help?"<br/>Sherlock thought for a moment, John could see his brain creating a time line and allocating tasks.<br/>"Your help would be appreciated, yes."<br/>"Right. I'm nowhere near the chef you appear to be, but I'll see what I can do."<br/>Sherlock half smiled at him.<br/>"You're perfectly capable of chopping and stirring. And I'm sure you can fill dumplings, even if you might not be able to fold them neatly."<br/>John decided not to take offense to that. He'd seen the intricate folds on the dumplings they usually bought from the Chinese place, and he didn't think he would be able to come close to replicating them himself.<br/>"Well, what's the menu then?" He asked instead.<br/>"Considering you'll be helping. I suppose I will have to tell you." Sherlock said. "My plan is for chicken dumplings as an entrée, with soy and sweet chilli dipping sauces. I won't make the sauces, we can use what we have in the cupboard. Coq au vin with the garlic mash and a steamed bean salad for the main. And I'm thinking I can make individual lemon soufflés with whipped cream for dessert. I'll have to ask Mrs Hudson if she has small ramekin dishes I can use for those."<br/>John looked in mild shock.<br/>"Homemade dumplings and soufflé? You really are trying to show off to Mycroft aren't you?"<br/>Sherlock smirked. "Of course. Anything he can get in his fancy club, I can make just as well. These also have the benefit of all being time consuming dishes."<br/>John nodded. "So he can see you have plenty of things to occupy yourself with."<br/>"Precisely."<br/>"Well, I look forward to the challenge of being your sous chef." John commented. "Let's shock Mycroft and give Mrs Hudson a lovely three course meal."</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Day Seven</h2></a>
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    <p>John slept in again the next morning. Sherlock hadn't said that he had needed him up early, and John figured that if he did, then he wold be woken up. It wouldn't have been the first time Sherlock woke him up because he wanted his help.</p><p>When John made his way into the kitchen, there was flour and eggs on the counter.<br/>"Have some of the tarte Tatin for breakfast," Sherlock told him.<br/>John nodded, absent mindedly going into the fridge for the milk. He could hear the kettle going, Sherlock had turned it on as John came down stairs. He was faced with a fridge that was obviously organised, but John couldn't figure out what the system was.<br/>"Each shelf is a different course." Sherlock called from by the sink.<br/>"And your experiments?"<br/>"Bottom shelf. And the crisper."<br/>John nodded. Now that he looked, yes, the fingers were in the crisper and the skin slides and hair samples were on the shelf. At least the bottom shelf meant they couldn't drip onto anything.<br/>Milk in hand, John turned to watch Sherlock.<br/>"How are we doing this, then?"<br/>"The dumpling dough needs to rest for a bit, and they can sit in the fridge before cooking, so that will be first. I'll get you to make the filling while the dough is resting. Then we can put them together. Ill roll them out, you fill, and then we can both seal them."<br/>John laughed. "I think you might be better off sealing them, Sherlock. I doubt I will make them look very neat."<br/>Sherlock conceded.<br/>"Okay. I'll do that then. I suppose you can put them on the trays and in the fridge as I'm doing that. Next would be the Coq au vin. That can cook slowly for most of the day. And the bean salad is served cold so that could be done as well."<br/>"Does the soufflé have to be made just before it's eaten?" John asked.<br/>"Cooked, yes. But the batter can be made in advance. I'll do that, but you can make the whipped cream while I mix the batter."<br/>"And the garlic mash?"<br/>"Ideally served warm, but it can be mashed and left in the oven for a little while."<br/>"Okay, so that will have to be made just before Mycroft arrives."<br/>Sherlock nodded at him. While they had been talking, John was eating breakfast.<br/>John put his plate in the sink and turned to Sherlock. "Well, let's get to work then."</p><p>While Sherlock was mixing the dumpling batter and then letting it rest, John cut all the mushrooms. Half went onto a tray and into the oven, while the other half were dumped in a bowl. Into the same bowl went chicken mince, chopped cabbage, a splash of soy sauce and of fish sauce and freshly grated ginger. This was to be the filling of the dumplings.<br/>After about half an hour, in which John did dishes and Sherlock scrubbed the kitchen table clean of experiment residue, Sherlock announced the dough to be cold enough and removed it from the fridge. The now roasted mushrooms were also added to the mixture.<br/>"Why roast the mushrooms?" John asked.<br/>"It gives them a nutty flavour," Sherlock told him. "Just an extra depth of flavour for the dumplings."<br/>"Where do you find all this information?"<br/>"The internet."<br/>John shook his head. He should have figured.<br/>Little stations were set up along the kitchen bench, one for Sherlock to roll the dumpling cases to the desired thickness, one for john to fill them at, another for Sherlock to seal them and the last one was rows of trays for John to place the dumplings on to then go into the fridge.<br/>When they were done, there were twenty neat dumplings on two trays, ready to be cooked later.</p><p>"Coq au vin next?" John asked.<br/>"Yes," Sherlock said. "I need you to chop some more mushrooms, celery and carrots. And the shallots"<br/>John gave a half salute, and pulled the vegetables from the second shelf. He also passed the chicken thighs and bacon to Sherlock.<br/>"So what order does this go in?" John asked.<br/>"No particular order. I'm coating the chicken in flour, pepper and a little salt. Then I'll brown the meat with some garlic. Once the chicken is sealed, the vegetables, stock and red wine all go into the pot and that's left on medium low for the rest of the day."<br/>"At least this dish is easy." John laughed.<br/>Sherlock nodded. "Once you've finished chopping the vegetables, could you halve the beans and put them in a pot to boil?"<br/>John put the vegetables next to Sherlock and grabbed the beans.<br/>While they were boiling, John cut the potatoes for the mash.<br/>"Will six potatoes be enough for the mash?" John asked him.<br/>Sherlock looked at the pile. "Cut one more, and could you cut them smaller? They'll boil quicker that way."<br/>With the coq au vin simmering away happily, the beans drained and tossed in oil and sesame seeds and the potatoes ready to be cooked later, John and Sherlock decided to take a small break.</p><p>After more cleaning, mostly on John's behalf, and some lunch, they went back to cooking.<br/>Sherlock lifted the lid on Coq au vin to check it and the delicious smell wafted through Baker st.<br/>"That's smelling good, Sherlock," John told him.<br/>"The meat is cooking rather nicely," Sherlock said proudly.<br/>Then they heard footsteps up the stairs.<br/>"Hello!" Mrs Hudson called out. "Oh, that smells wonderful."<br/>She bustled into the room. She placed four ramekin dishes on the kitchen table.<br/>"Is there anything you need help with boys?"<br/>"Thanks for those," John nodded to the dishes she brought up. "You'd have to ask Sherlock," he told her. "I just follow his directions."<br/>"Hello Mrs Hudson," Sherlock greeted her. "There really isn't anything we need you to do. You can go back downstairs and relax."<br/>"Oh, but it isn't fair for you boys to put in all this effort for our dinner while I do nothing." She told him.<br/>John and Sherlock looked at each other. They did have the whole meal planned, but it seemed Mrs Hudson really did want to make something.<br/>"Mrs Hudson, could you make some biscuits to have with tea and coffee after dessert?" John asked.<br/>"Yes, that would be perfect." Sherlock added.<br/>"Certainly. How about some jam drops? I could make half with strawberry jam and half with plum jam."<br/>She continued discussing this with hers elf as she went back downstairs.<br/>"I guess we have dessert and biscuits now," John laughed.<br/>"Essentially we now have a four course meal," Sherlock agreed. "Oh this will definitely ruin Mycroft's diet." He added gleefully.</p><p>The soufflé batter was being mixed by Sherlock, while John whipped the cream, sugar and vanilla.<br/>Sherlock poured the batter into the individual dishes, and they along with the bowl of whipped cream, went into the fridge.<br/>"What's the time?" Sherlock asked.<br/>John looked at his watch. "Umm, about 3.30."<br/>"Well, we have plenty of time then. The dumplings won't take more than about twenty minutes too cook, nor will the mashed potato. I expect Mycroft will arrive at 6.25pm, allowing him minutes before 6.30 to settle himself in and bore us with his small talk." Sherlock informed John.<br/>"So start the mash and the dumplings at 6?" John asked.<br/>"I think that will suffice," Sherlock agreed.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Dinner Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was precisely 6.25pm when there was a knock at the door to Baker St. Mrs Hudson was already upstairs in 22B, chatting to John and Sherlock they cooked the dumplings and John poured dipping sauces into small containers for each person.<br/>"I'll get it," John said.<br/>"Thank you, dear. I would go down myself but my hip, you know," Mrs Hudson told them.<br/>They did, indeed, know all about Mrs Hudson's hip.<br/>"Sherlock, do we have any wine?" John asked as he made his way to the stairs.<br/>"Mycroft has some," was the reply.<br/>When John opened the door, Mycroft stood in there, umbrella in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.<br/>"Come in, Mycroft." John beckoned him in.<br/>"Thank you."<br/>Mycroft's reply was slightly muffled by the mask over his mouth and nose, but as he entered the building, he removed it and placed it in the bin that was now next to the door.</p><p>"Good evening Mrs Hudson, brother mine," Mycroft greeted them as he placed the wine on the table.<br/>Mrs Hudson looked at the wine, eyeing the label appreciatively.<br/>"Glasses are in the cupboard," Sherlock told his brother, waving one hand behind him while he finished cooking the dumplings.<br/>Mycroft attended to the wine, and then sat at the kitchen table. The mismatched chairs had been removed, instead four matching chairs had been brought up from Mrs Hudson's apartment. There were no plates at the table, as Sherlock intended on dishing up each meal , but each place setting was marked with cutlery and an elaborately folded paper serviette. It was an unspoken agreement that Mycroft would sit opposite Mrs Hudson, and John next to him, keeping the brothers as far from each other as possible at the small table.<br/>Mycroft talked of the new restrictions and other nonsense that was occurring in the government. For the most part Sherlock paid him no mind, but filed the more interesting or medical information into his mind palace for sorting later.</p><p>As the clock struck 6.30 precisely, John and Sherlock carried two plates each to the table.<br/>"Chicken and ginger dumplings with soy and sweet chilli dipping sauces," Sherlock announced.<br/>John could hear pride, and a little bit of worry in the detective's voice. This was a big meal to prepare and, despite what Sherlock himself said, he did want to impress both Mycroft and Mrs Hudson.<br/>They had only eaten one each when Mrs Hudson spoke up.<br/>"Sherlock, these are marvellous! Did you steam them and then fry them?"<br/>Sherlock smiled happily. "Thank you, Mrs Hudson. Yes, I did."<br/>"Did you make the dumpling wrappers from scratch too?"<br/>"He did," John answered. "And rolled the dough and sealed them too. All I did was fill them."<br/>Sherlock sent a smug smile towards his brother. However, Mycroft was focussing on dipping his dumpling in sweet chilli sauce, and did not see Sherlock's expression.</p><p>Once the entrée plates were cleared and stacked neatly in the sink. Sherlock started on assembling the main course. The detective figured that the time it would take to dish each course up would be enough to let the previous food settle, but not enough that each person would feel full before they could get their next plate. He had researched digestion times and accounted for each person's individual metabolisms. Not because he was worried about this being perfect, definitely only because he was bored.<br/>The mashed potato went onto the plate first, then the Coq au vin was ladled next to it and finally the bean salad arranged to the other side of the plate. And just before the plates were taken to the table, Sherlock removed the ramekins of soufflé from the fridge and into the perfectly preheated oven. He also set a timer because soufflés had very little leeway and he had to take them out perfectly on time.<br/>"Oh, it was this that I smelt earlier!" Mrs Hudson grinned as her plate was set in front of her by Sherlock. "Did you have this cooking all day?"<br/>"Yes, it cooks best on low and for an extended period of time," Sherlock replied.<br/>"The chicken is rather tender," Mycroft commented, scooping some up with potato.<br/>"That was the hope," Sherlock told him.<br/>"Did you know that Coq au vin means rooster with wine in French?" Mycroft asked at large.<br/>John shook his head while Sherlock rolled his eyes.<br/>"We didn't use rooster, we used chicken." John commented.<br/>"I rather expected so," Mycroft replied. "Rooster is more difficult to obtain and is much tougher than chicken. Most recipes use chicken anyway."<br/>"Just eat," Sherlock instructed him.<br/>His brother rolled his eyes, but did actually put the food in his mouth.<br/>John had never eaten this before, but he didn't think he'd ever be able to eat it at a restaurant after this. The way the chicken fell apart and the smooth mash was something that he didn't think was replicable by anyone other than Sherlock. When John looked at Mrs Hudson, she was smiling and even Mycroft had a small smile on his lips as he chewed his food.</p><p>The dessert was the thing Sherlock was most worried about. He had trialled the soufflé one day while John was at work, and it had turned out how he wanted it. That time, though, he hadn't had to cool the mixture in the fridge. Thankfully, the timer went off about three minutes after the previous plates had been cleared. Sherlock held his breath as he removed the tray from the oven. They had a golden crust on the top, and looked light and fluffy. With any luck, they wouldn't fall. They only had to hold shape for the amount of time it took for Sherlock to place them on a larger plate, place some whipped cream beside them and then place them on the table.<br/>As the last course was placed on the table, Mrs Hudson again exclaimed in delight.<br/>"Oh Sherlock, you really have out done yourself. And you too, John."<br/>"Oh, no. This was all Sherlock," John told her. "I just did what he told me. Which isn't much different to usual, actually."<br/>Mrs Hudson joined John in laughing, while Sherlock rolled his eyes and Mycroft raised an eyebrow pointedly at his brother.<br/>"Lemon, brother mine?"<br/>"It off sets the rich meal before it," Sherlock stated. "Don't worry, Mrs Hudson brought sweet biscuits to have with a cup of tea after this, for your sugar cravings."<br/>"I don't have sugar cravings," Mycroft said blandly.<br/>"Really? So that isn't why you've put on an extra couple of pounds?"<br/>Mycroft opened his mouth to reply but Mrs Hudson got there first.<br/>"I think that's enough, the both of you. Sherlock has gone to a great deal of effort to make this meal."<br/>"Apologies, Mrs Hudson. You're quite correct. My brother has kept himself quite busy cooking."<br/>He looked straight at Sherlock when he said this.<br/>The brothers held eye contact for a moment, and unspoken conversation happening while John and Mrs Hudson ate. Finally, Mycroft nodded once and Sherlock smirked and then nodded as well. They both then turned back to their food.<br/>"I will admit, soufflés are difficult to master." Mycroft said as they finished the meal.<br/>"All cooking is chemistry," Sherlock replied.<br/>John looked at the two in shock. He thinks this is possibly the closest he's ever heard Mycroft come to telling Sherlock he'd done well.</p><p>"Shall we retire to the sitting room?" Mycroft asked.<br/>"I saw John had the fire going," Mrs Hudson agreed. "But only if the boys don't need a hand with the cuppas."<br/>"We're fine, Mrs Hudson. We know how you take your tea, Mycroft's too." John waved her off. "Go sit by the fire and we will bring your tea and the biscuits to you."<br/>John turned back to see Sherlock placing tea leaves in their teapot, the kettle starting to bubble.<br/>"Please tell me you washed that out since your last experiment!" John hissed.<br/>"Relax," Sherlock drawled. "I may want to poison Mycroft, but I'd rather not poison you or Mrs Hudson, or myself."<br/>"Because you haven't done that before," John commented.<br/>"I've never poisoned Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock was affronted.<br/>"I know," John laughed quietly. "How many times did you wash the teapot out?"<br/>"Three with disinfectant, another two with detergent and once after with boiling water."<br/>"Yea, that should have done it."<br/>John carried a tray in, the cups, teapot and biscuits on top of it. The coffee table was mostly clear, only a few case files piled haphazardly on one corner.<br/>"You're biscuits are, as always, magnificent, Mrs Hudson. " Mycroft told her.<br/>"How'd you know they were Mrs Hudson's?" John asked.<br/>"He saw the biscuit container in the kitchen," Sherlock replied. "And the thumb print that the jam is in, is smaller than both mine or yours."<br/>The biscuit tin John realised was obvious, the thumb print however was something he wouldn't have guessed. That's why Sherlock was the detective and he was just the blogger.</p><p>They were cleaning the dishes when Sherlock asked "Are you at the clinic tomorrow?"<br/>"No," John replied. "I'm on telehealth consultations here. Why?"<br/>"Well, that will make it rather hard for dinner to be a surprise then," Sherlock commented.<br/>"Still going to be cooking?"<br/>"Yes. I still can't go out for cases, so I will keep myself occupied this way."<br/>"Speaking of cases, how did we go convincing Mycroft to let you have control of your own money?" John asked. That was the motivation for having Sherlock's brother come to dinner, after all.<br/>"He's agreed to give me greater access to my own money, but he still won't let me have full control. And he won't restrict the cases Lestrade is giving me."<br/>"When did you talk about that?" John asked in confusion.<br/>"During dessert," Sherlock replied easily.<br/>Joh was still confused, but he figured it must have been some Holmesian brother thing. He hadn't heard them discuss that at all.<br/>"You really have been doing an amazing job with all the things you've cooked," John told him.<br/>"As I said to Mycroft, it's just chemistry. Really no different to any of my other experiments."<br/>"They don't tend to explode as often," John commented.<br/>"No."<br/>"Smells nicer too."<br/>"I should hope so! Food isn't supposed to smell like a chemistry lab."</p><p>John put the last plate in the cupboard.<br/>"I have the first appointment call at 8.30 tomorrow morning," He told Sherlock. "I'll set up in a corner of the sitting room."<br/>"That's fine."<br/>"Please don't explode something while I'm working tomorrow."<br/>"I won't," Sherlock promised. "Honestly John. What do you take me for?"<br/>"Do you really want me to answer that?"<br/>They looked at each other before laughing.<br/>"I'll see you tomorrow, Sherlock." John said.<br/>"Good night, John," Sherlock replied.</p>
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